


Unspoken concerns.

by fate_incomplete



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fate_incomplete/pseuds/fate_incomplete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short conversation in the rain, in which neither John nor Mycroft give voice to mutual concerns of Sherlock's boredom leading him back to dangerous ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unspoken concerns.

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime in series 2 before Reichenbach Fall

.......................

It was raining. Cold, lazy droplets falling gently, rolling off the awning that was too small to truly keep him dry. John rubbed his hands together, skin slick and clammy, as he resisted the urge to move from foot to foot, not wanting to give Mycroft the satisfaction of seeing him uncomfortable.

The older Holmes looked infuriatingly dry beneath his umbrella. _Smug bastard_ , John thought.

"Is there a reason we are standing out here in the rain?" John finally asked.

He had spent the last few minutes watching Mycroft calmly draw in and blow out smoke, as if that simple action was more important than whatever he had come to say. The smoke hung languidly, the moist air dampening its shifting swirls.

"I understand you wrapped up your last case over a week ago."

"Yes. Successfully," John answered defensively in response to the implication that they had been idle since, which slid between the words.

"So I heard."

"I'm sure."

John's jaw clenched at the stilted conversation, not doubting for a second that Mycroft was studying his every movement, every tick, and taunt muscle, in a manner considerably more predatory than his younger brother's. It irked him more than usual, as much as he tried not to show it.

A large droplet from the awning landed on John's neck, sliding beneath his collar, causing him to shift slightly.

"Mrs Hudson is away," Mycroft stated.

"Visiting her sister, but I'm sure you knew that too."

The spreading moisture along John's collar matched his growing irritation. He had been on his way out when Mycroft had stopped him. Sherlock had been gone most of the day, at the morgue, or at least that's where John presumed he was.

Sherlock had been jittery all morning, unsatisfied with the progress of whatever experiment was currently taking up most of the dining table and fridge. John had been on the phone with Mrs Hudson when Sherlock had left. She had wanted to make sure Sherlock didn't ruin her kitchen while she was away. As John had been reassuring her that he would make sure nothing got out of hand, his flatmate had had slipped out unnoticed.

"And Sherlock?"

"He's fine," John answered, keeping their conversation to a minimal amount of syllables in the hope of getting it over quicker.

John slipped a hand into his coat pocket, fingers gripping his phone. He had spent an hour this morning searching the flat for cigarettes and whatever more worrisome things that may have been stashed. He had found nothing, except a mild satisfaction that there had been nothing to find.

He really hoped Sherlock was at the morgue.

Despite the success on their last case, a simple missing piece of artwork valued at more than John could ever hope to earn in a lifetime, it had hardly been enough to quell Sherlock's agitation at the lack of juicy cases of late.

Mycroft's gaze flickered to John's pocket.

"I assume you know where he is then?"

"Yes, of course," John lied.

Mycroft smiled patronizingly. John just held his gaze, as another eddy of smoke drift between them.

John's phone buzzed. He pulled it out, eyes darting over the text.

_Barts. Bring 3 boxes of mints and a mallet. SH_

"Did you actually want anything?" John asked, as the tension in his shoulders eased.

Mycroft's eyes narrowed briefly, before he smiled benignly.

"No. Nothing at all."

A second text came through.

_How's Mycroft's diet going? SH_

"Sherlock says hello."

"I'm sure," Mycroft replied curtly, drawing on the last of his cigarette. "Keep an eye on him Dr Watson."

John nodded brusquely. "You could just phone him."

"He wouldn't answer," Mycroft answered quietly, before getting into the waiting black sedan.

.......................

A/N: Bit of a nothing piece. My first time writing Mycroft and just trying to get a feel for his dynamic with John.


End file.
